Lego House
by daceymormont
Summary: Set in New York City, where a chain of mysterious deaths has happened. The only single clue at the crime scene is a gruesome, bloody neck bite on each of the victims. After the most recent death, Private Investigator Victoria Vega becomes suspicious and begins finding connections between her horrid past and the deaths of victims. AU/AH


So I apologize first and foremost for disappearing and deleting all my stories. I just really hated them.

But nevertheless, I'm back with this story. I honestly got wrapped up in the TVD fandom and I was itching to write something with supernatural creatures in it and this was the product.

I want to thank **BeautyAsAWickedWitch **for being my wonderful beta and helping me develop this story in the beginning. I also want to thank **IAmImperfect **for beta-ing this when Maggie went AWOL on me all of the sudden with NO EXPLANATION. [glares at Maggie.]

Reminder, I have no set ships in this story. I honestly doubt if there will be _any _romance in this story.

Title was inspired by Ed Sheeran's angelic voice.

Disclaimer: I don't anything because I'm broke as fudge.

* * *

The night was just like another autumn night; cool with the wind blowing into the faces of the people outside. The leaves were beginning to fall, and changing into the beautiful colors Summer White loved. Her name was ironic, Summer always thought at this time of year. She was briskly walking towards her small apartment in New York City, trying her best to ignore the feeling in her lungs. They felt like they were collapsing. She paused, catching her breath. Summer rummaged through her large purse, sighing in relief when her fingers curled around her white the inhaler. Taking a deep inhale, she blinked, feeling better instantly.

As she dropped the inhaler back in her purse, somebody bumped into her. Summer's head shot up, surprised to find an elderly man struggling to gain his balance. No one was around to help, so Summer jumped to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "Wow, be careful." She said in a small voice. The man looked up, giving her a smile. "Thank you, lassy." He said, patting her hand. His thick Scottish accent caused a giggle to escape from Summer's mouth.

"You're welcome." She replied, shooting him one of her signature kind smiles. The man smiled once again but as he began to walk again, he suddenly stopped and the color drained from his rosy cheeks. He hobbled towards Summer, grabbing her hand. Fear shot through Summer and she stared at him with wide eyes. "Careful lassy. Danger is all around us." He blinked, as if he was hypnotize, and abruptly turned around. Summer's brow furrowed, staring after him. _What was that? _

Beginning to walk again, Summer heard the footsteps of another person behind her. She quickly looked behind her shoulder, to find only a young teen, who was too distracted to notice her. She sighed in relief, and mentally scolded herself for being afraid. When she first arrived in NYC only a few months ago, she had heard stories of girls being snatched in the corners of streets even in daylight. She had become accustomed to New York's large amount a crime, but couldn't stop herself from being cautious.

She felt a sick wrenching feeling in her stomach, and looked behind her shoulder once again. Instead of the teen with his phone was a man with a built figure. His hood covered his face, but Summer caught a glance of his wicked smile and his menacing eyes. Once the man spotted her looking, her grinned and began running directly in her direction. Summer gasped, adrenaline shooting through her and began sprinting. Summer panted, the balls of her Converse hitting the hard pavement. _Don't look behind you. Don't look behind you_, she instructed herself.

Her strawberry blond hair flew behind her as she pushed people out of her way. This was a time of distress and Summer had to get to safety. She made a turn, assuring herself that the move would throw off her chaser. Instead of a small alleyway she had expected, she was met by a hard brick wall. She cursed in frustration, turning on her heel and hitting something hard. Her long hair draped over her eyes as she fell to her knees. She felt something move beside her and froze. "Hello?" She called out. "Who's there?"

A pair of rough, dry hands gently pushed the hair out of her eyes and she was met with beautiful green eyes. She sighed in relief, letting her guard down. In front of her was one of the most attractive man she'd ever seen. Tall and built, he was kneeled in front of her, giving her a dazzling smile. She instantly took comfort in him, and flushed. "I'm sorry- there was somebody chasing me and I-I panicked." She told him. "I'm Summer." She must of looked ridiculous sprawled there on the floor.

The man smiled sweetly at her, letting out a laugh. Summer smiled in return, feeling her heart leap. "It's alright. I'm James." He shoot her another smile, offering his hand. Summer gratefully took it, feeling him lift her off the ground and into his arms. He wrapped her arms around her waist and held the back of her neck. Summer flushed.

_What was he doing?_ "I have to get home. Thanks for helping." Summer told him meekly. She wriggled out of his grasp, but was quickly pulled back in. Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him for an explanation. "Here's the thing," He began, "-I'm not letting you leave." Her smiled at her and stared directly into her own eyes. Summer watched, frozen, as she saw his pupils dilate as he told her in a clear, comforting voice, "You're not gonna scream."

Summer heard herself repeat his words, before he smiled. "Good girl." Summer watched as his face began changing- his eyes turning red, veins appearing under them and as his long incisors escaped from his gums. Summer's eyes widened, opening her mouth to let out a scream but instead heard nothing. "You see, that's the beauty of compulsion." James grinned, before he pulled her closer and his incisors punctured into the jugular vein of her neck. Instantly, Summer felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. A gasp escaped her lungs as both her and James slammed into the wall.

She gripped the back of his neck, tears escaping her eyes. "Stop." She begged him. The pain was unbearable. "Please." She sobbed. Her knees began to buckle, but his grasp was so tight that she stayed securely in his arms. She felt her body began to weaken and she realized with horror that he was drinking her blood.

After what seemed like hours, James released Summer, blood and even her own skin flowing out his mouth, as she fell to the floor. "Why?" She breathed out heavily.

James shrugged. "I was hungry." He whispered. Summer gulped, a single tear falling. He kneeled down to her level. "Bye Summer." He said softly, stroking her blood-matted hair. "You seemed like such a nice girl. Maybe I'll go to your funeral." He said, as he pressed a kiss on her forehead. Summer nodded, imagining was she must of looked like. Her strawberry blonde must have been matted with her dried blood, and her porcelain white face must have been streaked with her own tears. She couldn't even bring herself to think about how bloody her clothes were.

As she watched James saunter away, she imagined who would find her body. A hobo? Maybe a druggie? What would they do with her body? Throw it off the Hudson River? Alert the police?

She tried to stand up, hoping there was a chance maybe, just _maybe_, she would be able to run and get help. She clawed at the ground, but it felt like every cell in her body was weighing her down. Summer realized with horror, that she really was _dying_.

_No. No, I'm not gonna die, _Summer told herself. She would not lose. Never once in her life did she ever lose: she hadn't even lost the seventh grade spelling bee and she was a _third grader_. She tried to react, tried to scream, but each long second she could feel herself slipping and slipping. She tried to stay focus on anything but the fact of the numbness she felt in her body, but it was too much of an effort. She turned her head to the side, the pavement feeling cold against her cheek. But as seconds passed, Summer realized with a start that a large amount of blood had stained the ground.

There was only one question ringing in her mind: _Why?_ Why had this happened to her? Why not some other floozy?

But before she could answer, she felt that horrid dying feeling reach her neck. Blinking back tears, she inhaled a long, difficult breath and shut her eyes: a single tear escaping. There and then, her chest rose one more time and fell, and she breathed out one last breath before she finally let go.

* * *

"Summer was my baby. Sh-she was my only daughter. The sunshine of my life. I never wanted her to come here, and I wished she would of listened. I-I..." Olivia White's speech was cut short as she exploded in sobs, gripping the white handkerchief as if her life depended on it.

Victoria Vega closed her eyes, letting out what seemed to the fifth frustrated sigh. She had attended the funeral of the girl out of respect. Victoria was sure half of the attendees did as well. News had traveled about the girl's brutal death. And when Victoria had seen the pictures of the girl's mangled body, well it was no joke.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, crossing one leg over another. This ceremony had been prolonged for another hour and Victoria had become restless. From the way the funeral was planned, it seemed as if Summer White was the most important girl in the world. Her parent's had even scheduled a parade in her honor, making the subject seem more festive than sad.

Suddenly, Victoria had the feeling as if someone was watching her. She thought this was odd since everyone's attention was focused on a sobbing Olivia White, who was sprawled on the floor, demanding for something that almost impossible to understand over her wails. Victoria slowly looked around the room, searching for a pair of eye's focused on her. She found nothing other than the picture of Summer White that had been blown up. She had a coy smile on her face, her beautiful strawberry hair draped over her face in a perfect way that Victoria couldn't describe. Her doe brown eyes glimmered with happiness, which Victoria found ironic since... well, she was dead.

Victoria scolded herself for being so harsh and focused her attention on the mother who had began having a panic attack. Victoria gulped and abruptly stood up, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Everyone in the large church had turned her eyes to her and she quickly shook her head. _Stupid move Tori_, she sighed, grabbing her large purse and pushing past people's leg and stalking down the aisle. _Ignore the stares, _she instructed herself, sighing in relief when she pushed past the church and into the streets of Manhattan.

Immediately, she was blinded by the flashes of cameras. As she staggered to gain her balance back, she heard the disappointed huffs of the paps as they returned to their places near the steps of the church- smoking, checking their phones, and complaining about the long funeral. Why couldn't they just let the family mourn on their own?

The Summer White story had stirred all of New York City. She was the beautiful aspiring model from a small Southern town who had Victoria's Secret ad ready to be publish. Her story drew people in. And not to mention her parents were paying big bucks to find the killer.

Victoria blinked several times, trying to regain her vision. She carefully stepped down the many steps of the church and couldn't help and wish she hadn't worn the short cocktail black dress she was currently wearing. One wrong move and the paps would have something to shoot about.

"Hey Mami, why don't you come over here?" A perverted photographer whistled, as if Victoria was a dog. Victoria shot him a glare and then flipped him off. Half of the photographers laughed at the sight of a tall brunette flipping off a photographer who was two times her size.

The photographer frowned, before grabbing Victoria's wrist. "Mamistia, relax." He said as he tried to pluck a slobbery kiss on her. Before he could, Victoria grabbed his wrist and jerked her leg up straight into his gut. The photographer doubled over, dropping his camera.

"Next time, don't you dare touch me." Victoria growled, ignoring the claps of encouragement and wolf-whistles. She was positive that maybe she had shown a bit too much when she had kneed him, but she ignored that and smirked, before turning on her heel and walking away.

On the corner of Madison Ave., she hailed a taxi and stayed silent the whole ride up to 7th Avenue, occasionally sighing in frustration when traffic out of hand. But there was a different reason why Victoria was on edge, a much bigger reason. Getting tired of waiting for the busy traffic to move, Victoria sighed and told the driver to stop, giving him the correct amount of money and slipping out of the yellow cab. She began walking up the block towards her apartment- more like loft- and gave the doorman a somber smile. Staying silent the whole elevator ride, she practically trudged up the stairs, and paused at the door. Nailed to door was a golden plague that read _Victoria Vega, Private Investigator._ At the age of 27, Victoria was already the most talked out private eye in New York City. It was a refreshing title from her horrible past.

Shaking her head, Victoria entered her left, dropping her large purse with a thud on the coffee table, she heard an abrupt rustling in her walk-in closet down the hall. She froze, before grabbing the nearby broom and inching slowly towards the door. Pausing at door, she turned the knob slowly and entering the closet with caution. Suddenly, she was pushed against the shelves and began wrestling for the broom.

Victoria gritted her teeth, kneeing the unidentified person and sending jabs to its face. When the person staggered back, winded by the punch Victoria had thrown- Victoria wrapped her arm around its neck and began strangling it. She wouldn't have stopped but the strangled, panic pleas of the person suddenly became more and more familiar until they were clear as day. "Tori, Tori!"

"Dammit Andre!" She yelled, releasing her best friend. She pushed him off of her and flipped the light switch on, the light illuminating the dark closet. Her best friend was doubled over, clearly in pain. "You know you can't sneak up on me!"

"Probably should of called before I came." Andre said to no one in particular. He straightened up, revealing a nose that was streaming blood.

Victoria sent him a scowl. "Come on." She said, pushing him out the closet. "Let's get some ice on that." Victoria led him towards the kitchen; which happened to be her favorite room. Not only because it held her favorite junk foods, but because it was spacious and practical just like her. She grabbed the necessary things to ice down Andre's nose; ice, and a cloth.

She had met Andre a few years back when she was investigating a fire that had foul play written all over. Andre was a rookie cop who desperately wanted to prove his worthiness to his seniors, and had spotted Victoria lurking in the corner. When he had first approached her, Victoria had put up her usual aloof front, not bothering to even carry a conversation with him. But after many, _many _desperate calls and emails, Victoria had begrudgingly allowed him to help her. Lo and behold, Andre was a lot smarter than he let on and he practically led the investigation. Ever since then, Victoria had considered him a best friend, which was quite hard for her to admit. She had never been good at sentimental labels.

"Now, I'm going to put this on your nose, and so help me God, if you even squeal I will tell the whole New York Police Department you have an STD." Victoria quipped, but with her serious tone it would probably be considered a threat. She carefully placed the ice pack on the bridge of his nose and tapped his chin, gesturing him to hold his head up.

"Now, is there a reason you where in my closet?" Victoria asked after a moment of silence, placing a hand on her hip. "I mean, when did I ever give you a key?"

Andre cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed to be caught in the act. Or, embarrassed by the fact Victoria had beat him senseless. Either one would please Victoria. "Well, I know about your little fetish with er- illegal weapons. And I thought maybe if I took some of them and guarded the streets at night... maybe the attacks would stop." He was referring about the attacks that had become a chain in New York over the past five months. 25 victims, all woman. Though she wasn't sure yet, Victoria was positive that Summer White girl was one of the victims. She still had to check with her sources.

Or well- _source. _Mainly Andre. Some of New York's private investigators had grown jealous of Victoria's success and ties with the police department. "Andre..." Victoria groaned, "-You and I both know no matter how much ammo you have, you won't be able to take these killers." She used the word 'killer' loosely, since there was no evidence that this was a gang committing all these murders.

"But, Tori," Andre began but Victoria had already shushed him. He had the habit of slipping Victoria's dreaded pet name. "I-I mean, _Victoria, _I need to help. If I find this killer and beat him to a pulp, I'll gain a reputation at the police department." Victoria rolled her eyes. _Two years in the force and the kid still doesn't know what to do_, she thought.

"That's a stupid reason." Victoria said bluntly and that was that. The subject was dismissed. She had that kind of power over her people. Her no-nonsense attitude tended to intimidate people, not that Victoria was complaining. "Now, is there anything else you need before I throw you out of here?"

Andre, who had long placed the ice pack on the counter, blinked. He stuttered over his words but eventually Victoria could make out what he was saying: "I-I heard the chief talking about the case. He has the photos i-in a folder and I..." He paused, clutching the ice pack as if his life depended on it.

"And you what?" Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I took it." He muttered.

Victoria's eyes widened. While it may seem like a silly ordeal to be surprised about, stealing police property was a big deal in the crime investigation world. Though she knew many of her colleagues did so, she would've never expected a rookie like Andre to do it. "You took it?" She repeated.

Andre nodded, licking his lips nervously. Next thing she knew, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the yellow manila folder. "Yeah, I did." He slid it towards Victoria and stared at her with wide, expecting eyes. She found her fingers reached towards it and sliding the papers out. Right at the top of the pile was the gruesome picture of a dead Summer White. Her body was sprawled on the ground, her hair covered with blood and the gruesome bite mark on her neck jumping out the picture. The ground beneath her was stained with her then wet blood.

She regained her usual attitude and eyed Andre warily. "You didn't look in it before you came?"

Andre shook his head. "I wanted you to look at it. I mean, you're the best private investigator I know."

"I'm the _only _private investigator I know." Was the only thing she said as she scanned the several papers in the folder. After a few minutes, she let out an exasperated sigh. "I already know all of this." She told him, putting all the papers in the folder neatly and handing it back to him.

"Well, I know something you don't." Andre retorted back. He sounded like a child in Victoria's opinion.

Victoria pursed her lips in that head-bitch-in-charge fashion: hand strategically at her hip, raised eyebrow and eyes that dared anyone else to defy her. "And what would that be?"

Andre cleared his throat, a whisper of a smile appearing on his face. "All these victims have bite marks on one place of their body; their necks. There have been no signs of struggle _and _loss of blood has been in every single case." He rambled.

"And you're point is?"

"Think about it. What kind of killer would go straight for the neck? What kind of killer would just leave the bodies there? There must be a motive!" Andre exclaimed, his eyes full with excitement.

Victoria shifted uncomfortably. The kid was definitely on to something. "Continue." She demanded.

"Don't you see Tori?" He cried, jumping off the stool, not even bothering to apologize for the use of her pet name. "There's no kind of animal this big that can just wander in to New York City without Animal Control being called! The only explanation is _vampires_!"


End file.
